A Devastation In Belgravia
by SherlockedUntilDeath
Summary: A Scandal in Belgravia was the surface. The surface of a secret that is too dark to tell ordinary people, but to unbearable to bear. Though, in reality, the story was about two people who betrayed an entire nation for their unmerciful love.
1. Chapter 1

The surface is always the most beautiful. Nobody's filming a lake from below, except environmentalists who want to convince us to save a dying salmon or some other endangered fish. The surface is always bright as a mirror, but it hides all the misery of humanity.

A Scandal in Belgravia was the surface. The surface of a secret that is too dark to tell ordinary people, but to unbearable to bear. Though, in reality, the story was about two people who betrayed an entire nation for their predator-like and unmerciful love.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you _A Devastation in Belgravia._

**AN: I know. I KNOW. I know that I promised you to update my other stories but I just got this extraordinary idea today and this story will be written whether I like it or not. You're going to love it! But I'll warn you, it's going to be rather angsty and the rating will be changed to M later on because of serial happenings that… happen. If you like it (or hate it) just let me know. THAT MEANS REVIEW!**


	2. Chapter 2

"_What happened there?"_

"_Someone changed his mind. The question is, who?"_

_**-A Scandal in Belgravia**_

The insubstantial fog gently embraced the entire London the very October night when our, to some extent, despondent story begins. The lights that still were gasped heavily as the darkness formed branches and finally took over completely. The majority of the population of London was sleeping at the moment, and the few people who actually were outside didn't bother to look at the silhouette of a woman who hid in one of the blackest and duskiest alleys. One of the individuals who walked by suddenly slowed down, heading towards the alley in question. The woman met him halfway and grasped his arm tightly. He hesitantly removed her hood and swiftly examined the familiar face features. They scrutinized each other for a brief moment before she pulled him into an empty door opening.

"Anyone following?" The woman hissed and took off her thick coat, regardless of the chilly atmosphere. The man suddenly leaned forward, closing the gap between them by kissing her. She impatiently pulled away after a couple of seconds.

"I take that as a 'no'."

"Clearly." His deep voice responded, smoldering with derision. She smirked and they mutually leaned forward to kiss once more.

"Do you have it?" She breathed and reached for his pocket as soon as they were free to talk again. He just nodded, and gave her a neatly folded note. They looked gravely at each other. She doubtfully stared at it for a less than a second, conceivably suspicious because of its insignificant look or appearance. She carefully laid it in her purse. They remained silent.

"I should go."

"When will we meet again?"

"I'll call you later. Remember to act realistically when your brother tells you about me."

"Please."

"And, I think you're going to appreciate our "first" meeting. I will prepare something special for you."

"Always so accommodating." She giggled quietly and kissed his cheek before she turned around, stepping out in the light of the moon. It made her look ghost-like, nevertheless passive and innocent.

"Otherwise, call me for dinner anytime you wish."

"Not this week, John will suspect something. We're working very intensely on a case right now. You would enjoy it."

"I'm certain. "Intensely" sounds very promising. Very me, indeed. Like I said before, I'll call or text you. I'll tell you the rest of the plan then, here is too risky. Remember to delete the texts, as always. Do you trust me?"

"No."

"Good."

She waved half-heartedly before she hurried away in a rush, disappearing into the night for the last time until the game would begin for real. Sherlock Holmes smiled humorlessly as he thought of their irrational and senseless, though brilliant, plan. He slowly lit a cigarette. For him, the potential victory meant never being bored again and spending his life with the woman he loved. If they succeeded, they would go to history as the modern Bonny and Clyde. They would forever be the brilliant and ingenious ones. They would forever be _the_ woman and _the_ man. They would forever be recalled as Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler.

**AN: So, I'll explain. There will be very much dialogue, the chapters will be rather short and not all scenes/chapters will be the same as the actual episode. (This one for example)**

**REVIEW!**


	3. Chapter 3

"_Will you take the case?"_

"_What case? Pay her. Now. And in full. As Ms. Adler remarks in her masthead, "know when you are beaten.""_

_**-A Scandal in Belgravia**_

He sat alone in a large sofa in a sumptuously embellished room, completely naked aside from a sheet. He knew that Mycroft and some other, however unknown, official were on their way. So was John. And everything was going exactly according to plan. He lost himself in his swirling thoughts until he heard a familiar voice talking close to his left ear.

"Are you wearing any pants?"

"No." He answered automatically.

"Ok." He carefully avoided John's gaze, convinced that he would burst into laughter if he did. Suddenly, the tension between the two of them broke as they mutually started giggling uproariously.

"I'm seriously fighting an impulse to steal an ashtray. _What _are we doing here, Sherlock? Seriously what?"

"I don't know." He lied smoothly, trying to keep his voice as amused and natural as possible. He did a mental note, remembering to steal the ashtray when no one looked.

"Here to see the queen?" Sherlock couldn't resist teasing Mycroft as he pompously entered the room wearing the same expression as a person who just had eaten feces.

"Oh, apparently yes." They were both in their stitches and Mycroft sighed tiredly.

"Just for once, could you two behave like grown-ups?"

After a considerable amount of minutes had Sherlock most unwillingly got dressed and sat opposite the unknown official in question, who apparently was called Harry for the moment. Sherlock didn't know his real name, and he honestly couldn't care less. He felt his muscles automatically tense as Mycroft explained the issue with _her _or mentioned _her _name, though Sherlock actually wasn't listening at all. He thought about _his _issue, or complication, with her. She had the phone with the information they were planning to sell to the Americans, or whatever nation who was prepared to pay their price. And he didn't trust her in the slightest. He knew that as long as she had the material on her camera-phone, he wasn't safe or granted a place in the sun. He had to steal her phone. That was the only possible solution. But he knew that she would never let it go freely. She had, however, a password that unlocked her camera-phone and gave the person who did unlock it free access to all documents, pictures and data. The relevant question was, would he be able to hurt her to get access to the information? Physically, no. Mentally, however, probably unintentionally. Unfortunately, he loved her too much to break her and complete the mission on his own. Those were the unquestionable rules, and the game was certainly on. Sherlock hadn't bothered to actually take in what Mycroft had told him during the latest five minutes, but suddenly his voice sounded tremendously vocal. He passed Sherlock three quite familiar photographs.

"What do you know about this woman?"

**AN: Next scene will be at Irene's house and I've already written a few more chapters. Sorry for the long wait, it will not happen again. REVIEW!**


	4. Chapter 4

"_Do you know the big problem with a disguise, Mr. Holmes? However hard you try, it's always a self-portrait."_

"_You think I'm a vicar with a bleeding face?"_

"_No, I think you're damaged, delusional and believe in a higher power. In your case it's yourself."_

_**-A Scandal in Belgravia**_

She waited. Patiently, she waited for him to come, to pay her a visit. They had obviously already decided what to say and how to act in front of John, but Irene Adler had always written her own script. John Watson, Sherlock's friend. Practically his only friend. However, she was anxious about one thing. Her phone. She knew that the Americans sought for it, the British government craved it and Sherlock Holmes desperately wanted it too. Though, nobody knew where she had hidden it. Not even Sherlock. And if someone found and stole it, she would take it back. Abruptly, the doorbell rang and interrupted her considerations.

_Well, well. This could be interesting._

She wanted to tease Sherlock to the limit, and remained therefore completely naked. She smiled briefly and took a deep breath before she entered the room with her head high in the air and her heart beating hard in her chest. Though, she felt, for the first time possibly ever, doubt. She _doubted _their plan. It was almost too ingenious and too complicated to function outside the brains of him and her. But the show must go on. And if Freddie Mercury could do it with pneumonia and AIDS, she wouldn't be worse. She wouldn't fail the plan. And she wouldn't fail Sherlock. But she was certainly going to have fun on his behalf.

"I'm sorry to hear that you've been hurt. I don't think Kate caught your name."

"I'm so sorry, I'm…" The look on his face was simply priceless, and his entire appearance screamed _"Is this really necessary, Irene?" _as he glared at her. She smiled smugly. She had once more succeeded to take the great detective by surprise.

"Oh, it's always hard to remember an alias when you've had a fright. Isn't it?" She snatched his clerical collar as she approached him_. "_There now. We're both defrocked. Mr. Sherlock Holmes." She gave him a sharp, though yet amused, glance. _Try to behave naturally, dear. Enjoy yourself._

"Ms. Adler, I presume." He raised an eyebrow. _Well, it's not like you're making it easy._

"Look at those cheekbones. I could cut myself slapping that face. Would you like me to try?" She decided to push him further and took the actual collar between her sharp teeth. Suddenly, they were interrupted by footsteps and a loud voice that most definitely belonged to John Watson.

"Right, this should do it." He looked, to say the least, flabbergasted. "I've missed something haven't I?" So this was the famous army doctor, John Watson. Sherlock's friend and colleague. Irene felt almost disappointed. He was _not_ one of them. He was not brilliant (she knew this simply because Sherlock had told her), extremely sexy (she could judge this by herself) or an arrogant arse (well..?). How could Sherlock be so… _attached_ to him? As she approached John to study him more closely, she caught Sherlock's gaze. _How tactical of you, Irene. _She smiled to herself and took a seat.

"Please, sit down. Or if you'd like some tea I could call the maid."

"I had some at the palace." He frowned slightly as they stared at each other. _Great first impression, by the way._

"I know, don't you think?" She answered aloud. John looked confused and Sherlock simply kept his expression nonaligned.

"I had tea too at the palace, if anyone's interested."

"Well, how was it done? The hiker and the car?" She winked at Sherlock's unemotional façade. He looked slightly disturbed as he answered.

"That's not what I came for." _Start behaving yourself, now._

"No, you came for the information your brother wants. But that's not going to happen, so since we're just chatting anyway. How was it done?" She frowned. _Well, tell me and I'll start behaving. I know you want to play, honey. Why do you act so differently just because your doctor is here?_

It was exactly as he had feared. It was not going to happen. But he needed the phone, he needed control. Unfortunately, he was also addicted to the thrill of their game. He looked at her, rather intensely. _Are you sure you want to play? Now?_

_Why not, darling?_

**AN: Well. Three things. **

**Yes, I've always imagined that Sherlock and Irene can talk with their looks. So that's what they are doing in this chapter.**

**No, there will not be any specific photographs Mycroft wants in my story. Here it's simply 'information'. You will understand later.**

**Not all lines are the same, the plot isn't the same. It's not the same as "A scandal in Belgravia." Just so we're clear.**

**REVIEW!**


End file.
